With a Whisper
by heathers-and-feathers
Summary: "You didn't kill them." He stares at her, waiting for the answer to his silent question. Why would she show such mercy? She glares back with the same defiance he's observed and declares, "I am not what they wanted me to be."


**With a Whisper**

_Chapter One: Lost in Hell_

* * *

Be to her, Persephone,  
All the things I might not be:  
Take her head upon your knee.  
She that was so proud and wild,  
Flippant, arrogant and free,  
She that had no need of me,  
Is a little lonely child  
Lost in Hell,—Persephone,  
Take her head upon your knee:  
Say to her, "My dear, my dear,  
It is not so dreadful here."

Prayer to Persephone – Edna St. Vincent Millay

* * *

Five minutes, she calculates as the boy in the cell behind hers is thrown into his own, smacking the thick, clear glass with a deep thud. CCC19 doesn't flinch. She can't save any of them if she gives herself away. Her fingers trace the jagged edges of the letters on the white floor. The ones that help keep her going.

Her overseers never thought anything of them. The words. Nothing but ramblings and gibberish from her early, drug induced days when they played with her mind, they dismissed. The scratching and screaming and struggling had ceased long ago; she was now compliant subject. But they didn't know. She hid it in her mock ramblings, and she can spot the pattern easily, because she is cleverer than they think, and because she has nothing to lose. And she reads it over and over and over because it is all she has. It is her guide to surviving.

_Not always. Taken. Remember!_

_Pretend. Lie. Play the fool. _

_Let them have their power._

_Darkness breeds Deceit._

_Beat them at their own game._

_Fight!_

Three... Two... One... "Nineteen. Come here. I need you to answer some questions." It's the dark haired scientist that runs this floor—the worst of them. He stares at her with thick black frames hiding cold eyes, ready to begin her daily interrogation. "How long have you been with Apate?" She notices his blonde colleague staring dangerously over his shoulder.

_Not always. _Yes, that was the correct answer, she knew._ Taken._ There was a world somewhere outside the walls, but she was not a fool. She would not answer such a question truthfully. "I have always been here," her whisper comes automatically.

_Remember! _She couldn't. She doesn't know how long she's been here. She doesn't remember anything but CCC19. She doesn't even remember when she scratched the mantras onto the slick white floors, but she knows they're her words. They must be true. There is a place other than hell— she _feels_ it! She does not belong here!

Their brainwashing has not worked on her. Not completely.

If the dark haired scientist is pleased with her answer, he doesn't show it. "Do you remember SCC13? Do you know what happened to him?"

The boy in the cubical next to hers. Three days ago they took him away for testing. They wanted to try something new. Hours passed. She had assumed he would never come back. He returned a day later not his usual, tranquil self. The tapping of his bare feet as he paced back and forth to each clear wall drove her to the edge of her self-control. He stopped at the wall the separated them, blinking his pale eyes at her in a way she had never seen before. His skin was turning grey, veins protruding from his body like azure spider webs.

And he grabbed the thick, swelling webs his long, slender fingers and _tore_. Again and again. The screaming still rung in her ears. Such a violent reaction had not been seen by the others before. All she could hope to do was sit quietly and pretend she was unfazed. The white coats waited until his blood had emptied into the drain in the center of his cell and then called for cleanup. The blonde scientist had grumbled, "Failure," with an irked expression.

She added his number to the list—the ones she couldn't take with her.

It would have been fine, but the next day GCC4 struggled when it was his turn. GCC4 hadn't woken up since. She wonders if he ever will. All of the subjects on floor were given injections that day. But those had stopped working on her long ago, and they are testing to see if the drugs are working. _Pretend. _"No."

Did he sense her hesitation? The man presses, looking over the square frames of his bifocals, "Are you sure? He slept right over there." The cell he gestures to is completely cleaned of the gore she remembers.

_Lie. _"I don't remember," she insists. _Play the fool._

The blonde one finally speaks as he something on his clipboard, "She may be the most successful one in this project." CCC19 isn't exactly sure what they hope to accomplish with her. Nothing good, she reasons.

"Agreed. Erebus should be notified. Perhaps he'll finally let us conduct field testing instead of all these simulations." Field testing? Time away from this place? She could only hope to be given such a chance. "Training time, Nineteen."

They let her step out of her cell willingly; the two guards don't even bother to train their tranquilizers on her so diligently the way they used to. They seem bored with the monotonous, daily trek to the grid. Nineteen wonders why they haven't assigned fresh, motivated new men to guard the halls, but she would never complain about their negligence.

"You know her attendant has given her a nickname," the blonde mentions as five of them enter the elevator, disapproval lacing his tone.

Her ginger, pale attendant was only smiling woman in hell. The one who brought her the tasteless paste the subjects ate at dinner time. The one who brushed her dark untamed hair and tied it back for her exercises. The only one to offer praise for a job well done. The only one who feigned kindness and tried to coax an emotion reaction out of her, but _no!_ That woman was one of _them_, and she could not be trusted, no matter how many times her grey eyes watered when she tried patched her ward's wounds.

The dark haired one snorts and the elevator door reopens. "Fire her if you hear that again. It's CCC19. We don't name the lab rats." He hits her over the head with his clipboard for good measure. The blonde one laughs when she stumbles.

_Let them have their power. _CCC19 bites on her tongue and reminds herself that they have failed. They have not taken everything from her, and that fact keeps her steady as she passes the glowing, unearthly letters of the hall:

A_ssociation of _P_hysical and _A_dvanced _T_echnological _E_ndeavors,_

_for the betterment of humanity_

Did the rest of the world know? Did they condone such a hell? No... CCC19 pushes that thought away before the despair of it stretches across her face._ Darkness breeds Deceit._ The dark one pushes her into the Grid and pulls his colleague back in the direction of the elevators, as if they have more pressing matters to take care of.

Her attendant is waiting for her, smiling as usual. CCC19 doesn't know her name. In fact, she isn't sure that anyone here has a name. Has "Erebus" taken them all? "How are we today?" she chirps, and actually looks disappointed when Nineteen elects to ignore her. The woman pulls her hair back, and straps her weapons belt around her waist, chattering away in her ear, but she ignores any attempt at connection._ Beat them at their own game._

"Ready, Clarity?"

The hard light seeps from inside the Grid and glitters in the air, every sparkle growing like a crystal as they shape the environment around her. The surrounding lanky training robots covering the field glow with a human shape.

_Fight!_

* * *

**A/N: **I'm so obsessed with Young Justice and DC right now that I just _had_ to make my own Young Justice OC story. And after I had a really messed up dream that inspired this, I couldn't help myself. I also had the time of my life as a writer creating my own secretly evil organization, Apate. I think this is finally getting me out of my writer's block/depression rut, so hopefully I'll be able to update all of my other stuff soon, too! I hope you'll stay tuned!


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